


Put Your Hands All Over Us

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Clone Sex, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: “You know most people don’t usually have sexual fantasies involving themselves?”“Kinkshaming is rude, Rip."





	Put Your Hands All Over Us

**Author's Note:**

> A while back Gabbi sent me a prompt for two Sara's and one Rip. Well I turned this into two Sara's and two Rip's, but I got in the writing mood today and finished this, so I hope someone enjoys this? Maybe?

“I missed out on this the first time there was a double of myself,” Sara says, “And the second, you can’t expect me to miss out on _this_ a third time.”

And okay maybe that was because one was evil and inside Rip’s head.

And the other was breaking time to defeat the Legion of Doom, but _missed opportunities aside_.

“You know most people don’t usually have sexual fantasies involving themselves?”

“Kinkshaming is rude, Rip,” the other version of her - the other _Sara_ \- says, and Sara can’t help but agree with her.

Not because she’s the version of her from another Earth, Earth 3 to be exact because apparently the Earth 2 version of her was dead, but Sara wasn’t dwelling on that. She was instead focusing on the version of her with slightly outdated fashion sense but the same face as her.

But because she was right.

“We could just make out and ignore them,” Sara suggests.

Which sounds like a great idea since both her Rip, and the other Rip, seem to be of the same mind, that this was _weird_ , despite the fact that they had a very large hotel room and a bed that looked white and plush and the fact that there were two of her.

What man or woman would not want that?  

Her doppelganger seems to be of the same impression and they make eye contact just long enough to assure that they’re on the same page, before Sara is moving across the space between them and kissing her.

 _Herself_.

It’s complicated and a little unclear, but one thing is certain, they both like the same thing, and she considers for a moment that she might never go back to kissing Rip because this is ten times better.

They move in perfect synchronization, mouths opening at the same time, moans open and breathless, fingers tugging against clothes with practiced familiarity on both ends. Breaking apart for air is a necessity not a want, and Sara already has her hand down the front of her otherself’s pants by time she does so.

They breathe each other’s air for a moment, before Sara turns her eyes away from an identical face, to look over at the Rips.

Both of them, but her’s in particular.

To focus on the color on his cheeks, the way he so clearly desires her, as though he’s desired nothing else more in his life than to join them.

She knows all of his tells.

Knows this man almost better than he knows himself.

Which is why she knows all it will take is her saying his name, a half broken, “Rip, please,” for his resolve to crack.

His kisses are familiar.

There’s a scratch of his stubble against her chin, the way his hands still shake as they hold onto her, and the way their bodies press closer together instinctively. Needing more and needing each other, constantly and consistently. They are familiar with each other’s bodies, familiar and well practiced, and it fills her with a pleasure like fire to be kissing him again.

As if they had not been doing this very same thing hours before, an early morning in the captain’s quarters, a long shower until Jax banged on the door to tell them to hurry up.

Here though they don’t have to hurry.

They’re also not alone.

She still has a hand down her doppelgangers pants as halfway through her kiss with Rip she remembers to move that hand. To do something, and she’s rewarded with a gasp that is so familiar, one that breaks off into a moan, and silent pleas for the last of their foursome to join them.

He does.

She notices the weight of another body against the trio of them.

Moans turning into broken off sounds swallowed up into kisses.

More though, she needs more, so much more, and she leans away from her Rip, pulls her hand away from the other Sara to fall back onto the big hotel bed, the one that has been right there beside them for so long that it seems unreasonable for the rest of them to be all standing around it.

“One of you needs to fuck me,” she announces, watching as both Rip’s expressions change into something desperate and needy.

The other version of her seems to come to the same agreement, twisting away from her Rip, to join Sara on the bed.

They kiss again there.

Not only for themselves but as a show, a temptation, to urge their men into giving up that last hint of resistance.

It is easy.

They are easy.

There are hands against her hips a moment later, hands ridding her of her skirt, ridding the other her of her jeans. Clothing removed in a rush to get more contact, to have hands against flesh, to feel one another. She’s not sure who is touching her, it’s all too much, but there’s fingers pressing inside of her and soft lips against her own and she lets herself get lost to the sensation.

Of two men who know her body intimately, and a woman that knows it like it’s her own.

To pleasure unmistakable and unexplainable.

Anyone who said they wouldn’t have sex with their double was a dirty liar, or a fool who wanted to miss out on the best sex of their lives, she’d be sure to report as much to the Legends once they were finished with this night.

And to have sex her lover twice over at the same time.

This was what heaven was.

No pearly houses made of clouds.

None of the things she hadn’t seen or remembered from the two times she died.

It was this.

Rip, _a Rip_ because she can no longer tell which one, going down on her.

While the other teases her, touches her in all the right places.

And a soft pair of lips against her own.

This was everything she had ever wanted but didn’t know how to ask for, because it hadn’t really existed until this moment. Not as anything more than a vague joke in the back of her mind.

It’s so much.

It’s nearly too much.

Pushing her over the edge far too soon, so that she’s arching her back off the mattress and curling her hand into someone’s hair, holding him steady against her as she comes down again, sparks behind her eyes.

The Rip between her legs meets her eyes when she comes back down, a little hint of something in them that makes her realize with a certainty that this is _her_ Rip, “How’s that?”

She meets his gaze steady and sure, “Night’s not over yet.”


End file.
